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Thursday, August 23, 2012

From Mountains to Seas, Papua New Guinea

“Shout our name
from the mountains to seas, Papua New Guinea.” The strains of their national
anthem still play in my mind. I expected a great dive adventure. I didn't expect
to fall in love.

Perhaps it
was waking anchored in calm inlets to hazy purplish sunrises with the distant
call of exotic birds, or looking out at the lush green islands of Milne Bay that
contrasted sharply against the clear skies and deep blue waters that drew me in.
Without a doubt it was meeting the wonderful people of the villages that dot the
islands so far away from the usual conveniences we take for granted.

Silently the
dugout canoes sliced through the water from each village as we neared. Men,
women, and children in canoes congregated at the sides and back of the
live-aboard with fresh fruits and vegetables to trade for staples like rice and
sugar. Some displayed crafts of wood and shells to sell or trade for T-shirts.
Some fished. But all watched as we came and went in our dive gear. We were the
entertainment for the day.

The paradise
above was magnified in the treasures below. Abundant colorful marine life in all
shapes and sizes played over a patchwork quilt of brilliant corals. An abundance
of lionfish, countless varieties of nudibranchs, endless fields of anemones with
their guardian clownfish, and the unusual--the hairy ghost pipefish, kept us
diving back in for more. On this 10 day trip, we were limited only by our
ability, stamina, and common sense.

Diving the
wreck of the WWII bomber Blackjack was one that stretched our diving skills.
Blackjack (made legendary under the command of Capt. Ken McCullar who died on
takeoff in another aircraft) was commanded by Capt. Ralph Deloach when she ran
out of fuel in a turbulent storm during a bombing run to Rabaul. The crew
attempted to ditch on a shallow reef but missed ending up in deeper water and
were rescued by the nearby villagers of Boga Boga. She now rests in 165 feet of
water. Under the supervision of divemasters, the more experienced and
adventuresome did a decompression dive to 160’ to photograph the props and the
gun turret that still turns on the well-preserved body. The rest of us went to
130 feet. Swimming out over the wreck, we had an excellent view of the plane and
the divers below.

A visit to
Boga Boga village followed. School children sat on grass mats laid in rows on
the dirt floor of their school and participated in a grammar lesson that
resembled Wheel of Fortune. The pens I handed out went quickly—the children
swarming around me as if it were candy. We shopped the craft market that was set
up for our visit and talked with the villagers. Smiles abounded, some stained
red with betel nut juice.